Scarlet Linen

Sinners of us did this apple make,
And everything from each other did we take,
The serpent now swims in blood,
Portends from within will come a flood,
Drinking from the Crimson pool,
Of us he did not make a single fool,
For we loved in our secluded garden,
While his scales and everything bound within hardened.

Brown Dwarf

Was I an impetuous lover?
This corporeal entity wonders.
Our regretful end has put me in bedlam.
These vocal apparitions, start in the synapses.
They think Dopamine antagonism is the answer.
But it feels like a lacrimal tourniquet– this depression.
I feel physically deprived, that’s the real epidemic.
The haunting phantasmagoria forces lamenting upon me.
Forever an adolescent boy, my fate.
The proverbial Brown Dwarf.

East 58th & Lexington

Inception 1974,
Wine, floor to ceiling,
Circus motif,
Bloomberg Building,
Beacon Court,
Adam Tihany,
Costas Kondylis,
The decor is a 26,
Soup de Jour,
Pasta Primavera,
Crème Brûlée,
Mixed Leaves $9,
Mushrooms $9,
Spinach $9,
French Fries $9,
The food is a 24,
Sylvester Stallone,
Martha Stewart,
Woody Allen,
Andy Warhol,
Oh Maccioni,
The service is a 25.

The Lover’s Bedlam

It was a lonely night,
And I did not feel right,
I lay in the middle of the street,
Back on asphalt, from head to feet.

She looked at me curiously,
I looked back furiously,
“Please get up” she implored,
I said “I’ve got an underworld to explore.”

“Give me that corpse please!”
“This body, I’ll never let your seize.”
Oh how she was with sorrow laden,
My one, true, and forever; the sainted maiden.

I sat up and climbed to my feet,
And our eyes did so sweetly meet,
I held her close, and kissed her,
“Is this the corpse to which you refer?”

“It most surely is, kind sir,”
Such joy my heart did incur,
“Now let us be married,”
“And together be buried.”

So it was, forever written,
That me and this lovely kitten,
Were wed, that was of yore,
Together forevermore.

The Cloisters

Greyhounds, followed by raches
At the fountain, the horn is dipped
Spears are thrust, the hounds let loose
One is impaled by the mighty horn as
The Unicorn fights back against the lymerers
And escapes.

He comes across a virgin maiden,
Whose touch he has obeyed,
And soothed has he become by it,
Until he is set upon by the hunting party,
He is then thrust upon by spears and
Is felled.

Covered in pomegranate juice,
Sitting ever so tamed and serene,
The Unicorn lives once more
In captivity, but nevertheless
Without a scar to be seen
Is reborn.


How do I know it’s really you?
You don’t.
What if there’s someone or something between us?
There is.
How can you trust them?
You can’t.
I’ll ask you a question only you could answer.
So that I know it’s you.
Or you could just trust Kerberos.
I give up.
Why didn’t I call instead.
Live with the regret.

From a Dream

     “Your blood— it’s warm.”
He inspects the blood in the vial. It has the consistency of slime, and is a verdant green. He fiddles with the vial. It opens— some blood spills on his hands.
He closes the vial and shakes his bloodied hand. She begins to cry. She walks over to take his hand and then takes the vial back. She turns and begins rolling up her sleeve. They begin to walk towards the door on the left at the end of the mezzanine.
     “How much do you need?”
     “We’ll be needing it from now on for this type of research.”
She turns and looks at him.
     “We know how most things work, just not phasing.”
     “Phasing…is that moving through objects?”
They continue to the door and open it and move into the adjoining room. It is small, maybe ten by ten feet. A table or piece of equipment is on the right side of the room with room to maneuver around it. There are mechanical parts stored here, messily.
He moves towards the door on the opposite side of the room and opens it as she begins to fill the vial. The view through the doorway reveals the tops of two heads, moving towards the door. He closes the door and makes a gesture to her. He grabs an empty beer bottle from a rack beside the door.

The Sycophant

I still love her
Even after all these


I know she
Does not think of me


But I cannot forget
The past– our


Some would call me
A lover, others

     A Sycophant.


All I know is
I want Everything from


And I’ll love her until I no longer exist.


Inspired by Rae Armantrout’s “Eyes”


The infinite black
There is light

Traveling faster than anything.

Within the camera obscuras
Photons die

Electrons greedily consume
Their corpses

The signal
Traveling great distances

Along Sodium pumps
Through axons and dendrites

A lacrimal response

From Tantalus Penal Colony

A pandoras box
Does it matter what’s inside?

That person no longer exists…

A part of our cure,
Is to bury the past–
The art of Forgetting.

Neural Synapse Damage!
Spock has never tried this on a Human,
You understand it could be dangerous…

     You will begin to feel a strange euphoria.
          Your body floats.
               Open your mind.
                    We move together.
     Our minds sharing the same thoughts.
     What is our name?
     Who are we?

I can’t forget,

Felt so empty,
So tormented by emptiness
The longing for her,
The pining,
Felt like a fire within the soul.

It’s hard to believe that a man could die of loneliness.